


The case of the lost mind

by Kati67



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dementia, Gen, Helpless Sherlock, Old Age, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 17:20:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8632036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kati67/pseuds/Kati67
Summary: John, what is happening to me? I am losing parts of my life, my memory, I don’t recognise things anymore. John, I am losing my mind





	

**Author's Note:**

> Because I work with elderly people with dementia this idea started to form in my head... what if ...

‘Where is he?’ I asked walking in while throwing my coat on the couch.  
  
‘In the kitchen’ she whispered her eyes all red from crying.  
  
I had neither the time nor the patience to deal with her today. I walked into the kitchen and there he was sitting at his side of the table which was weird of me to think of it like that still as I didn’t live here anymore and hadn’t for a long time. I sat across the table from him and looked at what he was doing. He was fiddling with some microscope glasses and had broken one. It had cut his finger and he was bleeding. He didn’t seem to notice it.  
  
‘Hey’ I said putting my hand over his hand ‘that one seems to be broken’  
  
He looked up, for a moment he didn’t seem to recognise me but then he smiled; ‘John’ he said.  
  
‘Yes I’m here’  
  
He looked at his hand ‘I’m bleeding’  
  
‘I know shall we put a band aid on that?’  
  
He nodded, stood up and followed me to the kitchen sink where I cleaned his cut and put a band aid on his finger.  
  
He looked at me again and said softly; ‘You came back?’  
  
‘No Sherlock, I’m married remember? I don’t live here anymore’  
  
‘Where is Mrs Hudson?’ he started to look around ‘Mrs Hudson?’ he yelled.  
  
‘Sherlock, she died years ago, come sit down’  
  
He looked at me in shock; ‘Mrs Hudson died? When? Why don’t I know that?’  
  
He walked around the room bewildered ‘It can’t be John it’s all lies. Moriarty is doing this right? I’m sure of it. He has plotted against me before. We must call Lestrade immediately’ he turned around and looked at me ‘Why aren’t you doing something about it? I’m going to change and we’re off’ and before I could do anything he stormed off to the bedroom.  
  
‘See what I mean?’ Molly sobbed ‘He’s like this all day, every day’  
  
‘Molly, wait here, I’ll handle it’ I said ‘I know it’s hard’  
  
I followed Sherlock to his bedroom where I found him in front of his closet mirror staring.  
  
‘Sherlock?’  
  
‘Who is this? This isn’t me, it can’t be me. That man is old. I’m not old, John, I’m not…’  
  
Suddenly he grabbed my arm clinging on to it; ‘John, what is happening to me? I am losing parts of my life, my memory, I don’t recognise things anymore. John, I am losing my mind and it’s frightening’  
  
I saw tears well up in Sherlock’s eyes.  
  
‘That’s why I called you!’ she cried ‘I can’t deal with this anymore John’  
  
I looked at her, Molly who always had a huge crush on Sherlock but Sherlock never saw her in that way. After Mrs Hudson died she moved into her apartment and took over the care of Sherlock. We all did really because even though he always said he could take care of himself we all knew he really couldn’t. Mycroft, Molly, Lestrade and Mary and I took on the role of taking care of the great Sherlock Holmes. It was not long after Molly moved in that we all noticed the first signs of Sherlock’s forgetfulness. Because I’m a doctor I noticed the early signs of dementia but it took a while before we all wanted to admit it; Sherlock is having Alzheimer’s. Before now with a lot of care from all of us he could still live on his own but it looks like that time had passed. We needed to look for a good home where he got the best care. We couldn’t do it on our own anymore.  
  
I took out my phone and started calling Mycroft.  
  
\---  
  
‘How is he doing?’ I asked Mycroft when we both arrived at the nursing home together.  
  
‘He has gotten worse Dr Watson’ Mycroft said shaking his head ‘I would never have thought that such a brilliant mind as that of my brother would go to waste on such a horrible disease’  
  
‘Yes I know, it’s devastating to watch on all people but especially Sherlock who lived on solving difficult things with his mind’  
  
We walked up to where Sherlock was sitting, in his own chair by a window staring outside. He didn’t react to our voices or us talking to him. He just sat there. His shoulders hung, his face had no expression whatsoever. A nurse came over and saw us sitting there with him.  
  
‘The one thing that lifts his spirits is this’ she said and she turned on a cd player.  
Violin music started filling the room.  
  
Suddenly Sherlock came to life. He sat upright and his eyes lit up. He smiled a warm soft smile of recognition. He turned his head to us, nodded and closed his eyes to enjoy the music. After a few minutes he was sleeping peacefully with the faint smile still on his face.  
  
Before we left Mycroft kissed his brother’s curls carefully not to wake him ‘Sweet dreams little brother’ he whispered.  
  
My eyes were filled with tears about the man I once knew when I drove home to my wife. 


End file.
